


Do You Not Love Me?

by I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ancient magic, Blood (For Said Rituals), Blood Rituals, Gen, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 06:07:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10961271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning/pseuds/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning
Summary: Padme's in danger. Palpatine might be more than he seems. Anakin Skywalker is beginning to feel the cold edge of panic. But there's one person he can go to for help... right?





	Do You Not Love Me?

 

Anakin sped to Obi-Wan's room, his heart in turmoil.

Palpatine's words, less than an hour old, echoed through his mind.  _ There is a way of saving Padmé, a ritual known as Met Telon. _

_“Is it known to the Jedi?”_

_“Yes. But your master does not love you enough to use it to stave off a death he would see as natural. There are... other paths, Anakin. Ways for you to learn this power for yourself.”_

_“Why have I never heard of it?”_

_“Masters are taught the secret.”_

And Anakin had been placed on the Council, but not been made a master.

Anakin stormed through the door, locking it behind him as Obi-Wan looked up from a datapad, startled.

“Can you perform Met Telon?” he demanded without preamble.

Obi-Wan looked confused. “The path is known to me.”

“Can you teach it to me?”

A guarded expression entered his master's eyes, but he didn't move from his chair. “No, Anakin.”

“ _ Why _ ?”

“Because you are not yet a master.”

“A rule. A dumb  _ rule _ ?”

Obi-Wan looked concerned. “It's not a  _ rule,  _ Anakin. It's about ability. The ritual requires utter calm in a moment when calm is near impossible, or it ends in devastating damage to all involved. Master isn't some  _ title  _ to be handed out based on  _ merit  _ or  _ favor,  _ it's about  _ skills gained.  _ Of course Met Telon is only taught to masters, because to  _ become  _ a master one must learn how to find calm even when it's impossible.  _ That  _ is the skill one must prove you can use; once you have, you are  _ already  _ a master. No one would refuse you the title.”

“And because I can't be  _ calm  _ I can't be a master.”

“Have patience with yourself, Anakin. You are close. Closer than most your age, in fact; I have  _ never  _ seen a knight made a master this young. You expect miracles from yourself.” Obi-Wan gave him a gentle smile. “It's alright to allow yourself to grow at a reasonable pace.”

It was ridiculous, is what it was.

_ I'm more powerful than  _ any  _ of you. I should have it by right. _

What did it  _ matter  _ if he hadn't learned that  _ skill _ ?

“You seem to think it a trophy,” Obi-Wan murmured, watching him seethe. “Fine. See it that way. But you wouldn't be awarded  _ any  _ trophy if you haven't  _ won  _ your race. It wouldn't matter how fast you could fly if you couldn't steer, Anakin. It wouldn't matter if you reached the far end of the track  _ faster  _ than anyone else, with more flourish, if you hadn't learned how to return to the starting line to  _ finish.  _ Would you expect anyone to hand you a trophy for a collection of skills you haven't  _ learned  _ yet, just because you're prodigiously talented?”  
Anakin deflated. “I'm not  _ that  _ arrogant.”  _ Yes. I am. Kark.  _ “But you could perform the ritual.”

“True.”  
“It's not of the dark side?”

“It depends entirely on the individual performing it. An  _ action  _ is not light or dark, Anakin. It's always the person behind it, the soul-deep hidden  _ reasons  _ why they do what they do.”

Anakin gave a nod, then announced, “Padmé is dying.”

Obi-Wan's lips parted in shock. “I'm so sorry—”

“No.” Anakin took a step closer. “Don't be sorry. Save her for me.”

Understanding flooded Obi-Wan's eyes. “You want me to perform Met Telon to save her.”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what you ask of me?” Obi-Wan whispered.

“Yes. I cannot live without her.”

Obi-Wan looked like he'd been slapped in the face. “I—” He drew in a steadying breath, paused, began again. “I need some time to think. Meditate a while.”

Fury  _ flooded  _ Anakin's veins.

“The woman I love is dying, you have the power to  _ save  _ her, it's not even  _ against  _ your conscience to do so, and yet you need  _ time to think _ ?”  
Obi-Wan stared at him, pain in his eyes.

“What is  _ wrong  _ with you?” Anakin demanded.

Obi-Wan's gaze fell away, his eyelids squeezing shut.

He didn't reply.

Disgusted, so  _ done  _ with all of his sanctimonious  _ kark _ , Anakin took another menacing step closer. “You know, Dooku was  _ right. _ ” He couldn't very well admit it was the Chancellor instead... and Obi-Wan had been unconscious for the fallen Sith lord's final moments, so he wouldn't catch the lie.

Obi-Wan squinted up at him, agony in his face.

_ Why is  _ he  _ hurting? Like  _ I'm _ the unreasonable one? _

“He said you didn't love me enough to do this.”

“Anakin,” was Obi-Wan's broken murmur.

“I would have done  _ anything  _ to save Satine if I'd had even the  _ tiniest  _ opportunity,” Anakin said, his anger giving way to bitter grief. “Because I  _ love  _ you. Do you not love me?”

Obi-Wan cringed. “How can you ask that? Have you not  _ felt  _ it—?”

Felt  _ what _ ? The Force caress that had been wrapped around him since the moment Obi-Wan took him as his Padawan?

_ Not good enough, old man. _

Obi-Wan saw the words in his eyes.

Something died behind his own.

His face settled, familiar lines carved into the space between his eyebrows, a protracted wince in the eyes. “I need a little time to prepare. Get Padmé to somewhere safe with a bed she can lie on, preferably with a tile floor. Make sure she's unconscious by the time I get there.”

Anakin gave a nod,  _ so  _ relieved Obi-Wan had seen reason. He didn't like the listless pain he could sense in the Force, but Obi-Wan was wrapping tight shields around it now.

Anakin gladly left his presence.

He didn't want to feel those pathetic whimpers in the Force, the silent accusation.

 

* * *

 

Left alone, Obi-Wan sank to his knees, bowed his head, and felt the tears slip from his eyes as he faced his broken heart.

He had to find calm for any of this to work.

 

* * *

 

Anakin paced by his wife's side, her face so still, so  _ pale— _

She'd assured him the pills wouldn't harm the baby, or herself.

_ And I don't want her feeling pain. _

Still.

He didn't like how still she lay.

Obi-Wan appeared in the door, his expression clear as the night sky on Tatooine. “Before we begin,” he said, stepping into the room, “I want you to know that when I asked for time, it wasn't to decide whether to help you or not.”

“That's what it  _ looked  _ like,” Anakin countered, watching him as Obi-Wan approached the bedside, ran a gentle hand over Padmé's forehead. “What  _ was  _ it for, if not that?”

“To prepare myself. To consider all that's happened, the people, the best moments—” He sent Anakin a beautiful smile. “There were places in my mind I wanted to revisit.”

“My wife is dying and you wanted a trip down memory lane,” Anakin said, his voice flat and just a bit aggressive.

Obi-Wan's smile disappeared. “Forgive me.”

“Just save her.” Why were they still  _ talking  _ when so much was at  _ stake— _

The older Jedi leaned over, pressed a careful kiss to the pale forehead. “The child is yours, isn't it.”

“ _ Obi-Wan— _ ”

Obi-Wan nodded.

He knew.

Panic flooded Anakin's soul—

Obi-Wan ignored it. Instead, he placed his hands on either side of Padmé's stomach, eyes falling shut as he focused.

Anakin tried to decipher what he was sensing. Obi-Wan was calming himself to a point of total serenity, he seemed to be aligning himself with the life form inside—

“There are two,” Obi-Wan murmured.

_ Two? Wait... twins? _

Amazed, Anakin forgot to breathe.

Obi-Wan moved to Padmé's head again, placing his hands on either side of it, and Anakin could almost see the golden glow looping between brain and fingers and back.

And then Obi-Wan straightened up, his hands fell to his sides, his eyes closed, his head tipped back.

He whispered words in the old tongue, words Anakin didn't know—

For a long moment nothing happened.

Anakin's intent focus on his face flickered as he saw movement, realized crimson beaded from beneath the closed lashes, slipped down cheeks like tears.

It began to drip from nose, from ears—

Anakin could sense slight discomfort, but Obi-Wan didn't seem to mind. It didn't disturb his calm.

Anakin's gaze tracked lower, saw blood dripping from Obi-Wan's fingertips.

Obi-Wan's eyes opened, and Anakin saw that their whites were a muddied pink now, the blood vessels within rupturing.

Obi-Wan cupped one hand, allowing the blood to gather in the palm, and dipped his finger into it, painting sigils across Padmé's forehead with them as he murmured ancient words.

Anakin watched, stunned, as the marks lingered but for a moment, and then seemed to melt into her skin, vanishing as if they'd never existed.

He moved, gently drew the blouse up a little ways, leaving the swollen stomach free.

He left larger symbols across the skin there, and Anakin saw a baby kick in response as those began to fade.

And then Obi-Wan turned to Anakin.

Pulse pounding in his throat, Anakin didn't retreat as Obi-Wan's cold finger traced warm blood across his forehead.

It  _ burned. _ No wonder Obi-Wan had asked for Padmé to be asleep.

Anakin's knees buckled, dropping him to kneel as he cried out.

Obi-Wan followed him to the floor, still murmuring in the flowing language of old.

Anakin struggled to retain consciousness as Obi-Wan took his head in both hands, stared into his eyes, and murmured, “Protection. It's not much, but it's—”

Blood spilled from his mouth. He ignored it.

Anakin couldn't. “Hey. You alright?”

“At peace,” Obi-Wan murmured back. “Padmé will live. Your children guarded against the Sith. You protected—” His eyes closed for a moment and he swallowed, breathing heavy. “Not bad. Goodbye, Anakin.”  
Anakin's heart skipped a beat, then  _ thundered.  _ “Wait,  _ what _ ?”

Obi-Wan's hands fell from his face, he toppled over.

Barely able to keep his eyes open, Anakin struggled not to follow.

Obi-Wan rolled to his back and spread his arms wide. “Met telon tai,” he whispered.

A rending shriek tore through the Force, and Anakin clutched at his ears.

Obi-Wan's body lifted two inches from the floor, and a vapor of red seemed to tear itself from his form, most of it peeling away to cover Padmé, the rest wrapping around Anakin.

He tried to fight against it with his hands, but it coated them instead.

It felt like blood, misting his skin.

In the Force, the bright light that was Obi-Wan went out.

Anakin heard himself scream.

Obi-Wan hit the floor with a dull crack, eyes empty, lips parted.

Anakin scrambled to his side, checked for a pulse—

Not that it mattered, since he could  _ feel  _ the gaping wound in his mind that meant Obi-Wan wasn't  _ here— _

_ It didn't work,  _ Anakin realized, staggering to his feet.

Obi-Wan had warned that if not done  _ just right— _

_“Devastating damage to all involved.”_

Panic seized Anakin and he lunged for the bed.

Padmé lay quiet, breathing steady, skin covered in a light sheen of blood.

It was already starting to fade.

Anakin stared down at his hands, saw the crimson disappearing.

He scrubbed at his face, found it clean—

He turned to look at Obi-Wan, found his fallen master unstained as well.

But the floor  _ around  _ him—

In mild terror, Anakin realized the dead body had moved.

Blood stained the floor in the symbol of the Jedi Order, Obi-Wan's body forming the spire, his arms twisted out, broken so they could bend to help form the rising wings.

_ What have I done? _

He felt a sting in his living hand. He tore off his glove and looked down to see a symbol branded into his palm.

He grabbed Padmé's hand, found nothing— looked higher, found a brand seared into her forehead. A tiny symbol, different from his own—

He knew to his deepest self that they wouldn't be going away.

Pain flared bright in his palm. He cried out and looked down, saw it pulsing with a blue light.

He looked up to the door, somehow  _ knowing _ the light signaled his greatest enemy. He  _ knew. _

He found an intruder standing just inside the closed door.

“Chancellor,” he stuttered, wondering how the man had entered.

Remembered the suspicions he'd felt hearing the older man speak—

“Master Kenobi was a fool,” Palpatine muttered. “You should have listened to me, Anakin. If you had, you would still  _ have  _ your idiot master.”  
“What do you mean?”

“Met Telon, Anakin. It means  _ I give. _ A Sith could have ended the ritual with the word  _ yon _ — the word for  _ another _ . I could have performed this ritual, given up a sacrifice that meant nothing to you, you would have suffered  _ no  _ loss. But a Jedi would never sacrifice one innocent for another; they  _ always  _ end it with  _ tai.  _ It means  _ myself. _ ”

_ “Do you know what you ask of me?” _

_“Yes. I cannot live without her.”_

The words burned Anakin.

He remembered Obi-Wan's hurt.

_ He thought I was saying he was disposable. _

Tears flooded his eyes, scalded his cheeks.

He would  _ hate  _ himself for this day...

But he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

Because next to Padmé...

Obi-Wan  _ was  _ disposable.

The entire  _ universe  _ was.

Palpatine took a step closer into the room.

Anakin's hand gave a mighty throb—

Fire leaped up from the symbol on the floor, the flame rising to wreathe Anakin.

“Stand  _ back _ ,” he warned, afraid the fire would harm Palpatine— he stretched out his hands to reinforce his words—

As the sigil in Anakin's palm turned to the Chancellor, the man let out an inhuman screech. He sprang backwards like some form of arachnid, almost skittering against the floor on all fours.

Anakin saw yellow eyes, saw the face twist into a hideous, almost melted appearance, felt in the Force the sheer  _ vileness  _ of the man—

_ He's not just another person with another valid view of the Force,  _ Anakin realized.

The facade had slipped.

The Chancellor fled the room, and the farther he moved away, the less Anakin's brand hurt.

The flames around him turned, and Anakin saw they formed a bird of prey. It looked into Anakin's eyes, and his heart twisted as he  _ recognized  _ those eyes.

He reached out with his hand, trying to touch—

The heat burned him, he withdrew the hand with a jerk—

This creature's Force signature was utterly unfamiliar.

It wasn't Obi-Wan.

But it had his eyes.

_ It will look out for me,  _ Anakin realized, though he didn't know how he knew.

It gave a shrill cry and vanished.

Anakin was left alone with his wife, and the broken corpse on the floor, surrounded by blood.

 

* * *

 

Anakin held his infant daughter and stared down at his son.

They had symbols on their little foreheads.

It had baffled the doctors and droids alike.

The marks differed from their parents', but matched one another, and for all the world looked branded into their skin.

“He saved the three of you,” Anakin whispered, knowing no one could hear him but the little ones. “Somehow, he didn't resent it, or me.”

His palm ached.

_ Palpatine is coming. _

Anakin turned the children over to his wife, who had her blaster out and ready.

He drew his saber and walked to meet the monster who had tried to drive a wedge between him and the man who had loved him more than life.

_ You know nothing of love,  _ he thought to the Sith.

Flame exploded beside him, beautiful gold and orange in the dim light of the hall.

And when the Sith appeared, Anakin Skywalker charged into battle not alone.

When he called on the Force to guide his fight, its warm strength felt familiar.

Was it Obi-Wan who urged him to duck a blow that would have killed him?

Was it Obi-Wan who gathered up debris to hurl at the enemy of Anakin's soul?

Was it Obi-Wan who guided his hand in that final strike?

All he knew was that when he had the Sith's blood on his hand, his skin repelled it, tiny droplets flying away.

Obi-Wan's eyes in a creature of flame's face met his own, and once more it vanished.

It would return when his need was greatest.

And not until then.

 

 


End file.
